Page 22 of The Do-Over

Ignoring that for now, I rolled in my lips, took a deep breath, and plunged my hand into the freezing-cold bacteria-laden water.

“Dear Lord.” I pulled it out, holding the dripping device—which was surely destroyed—out in front of me.

I opened the stall with my dry hand and moved through the opening, leaving my bag in the stall. I needed to scrub the skin off of my hands and sanitize my phone. Feeling the cold bathroom floor under my feet, I clenched my teeth. How had this happened?

I’d taken one step out of the stall in my stockinged feet when the bathroom door opened. I froze as three girls filed in, talking loudly among themselves.

No, no, please, no.

It wasn’t just any three girls; it wasthem.

There were a lot of popular people at school who seemed nice enough, but Lauren, Nicole, and Lallie were the ones whoenunciated like Kardashians and actually told people they couldn’t sit with them at lunch.

On any given day, they could randomly decide your hair was ridiculous and start a school-wide joke of a nickname that followed you all the way though graduation and still existed at your ten-year reunion.

I’d felt marginally less vulnerable around them since I started dating Josh, only because they liked him. They still didn’t talk to me, which was fine, but their threat was neutralized by their friendly relationship with my boyfriend.

But it was like time stopped and for a split second, I was able to see myself through their eyes. A bookish non-popular, coming out of a bathroom stall with a dripping phone in her hand and her shoes off. That led their eyes to the floor of stall number one, where my boots, a book, and a half-consumed bottle of Diet Coke all sat together as if I’d just been having a toilet picnic.

They kept talking to each other and didn’t say anything to or about me—thank goodness—but as I turned on the faucet and started lathering my hands and my phone, I definitely saw the eyebrow-raises.

Perfectly arched eyebrows, mind you, but eyebrows that said they’d definitely be talking about me after they left.

Which, thankfully, was only moments later. Once they were gone, I ran to gather my stuff, re-boot myself (after wiping hand sanitizer on the bottom of my tights), and wrap my tainted phone in a hundred paper towels before zipping it into my bag’s outside pocket.

Okay. So. The bathroom ordeal made total perfection unachievable. But I still had hope that achieving romantic perfection could potentially save the day.

I sat anxiously through my next class because (a) I didn’t have a phone so I had no way of knowing if Josh was texting, (b) I was worried the office was going to try again, (c) I was stressed that rumors of my potty picnic were already circulating, and (d) I was paranoid my boots were going to start smelling like Fritos since I’d zipped my feet into them while they were still slick with sanitizer.

I was trying to avoid thinking by taking extensive notes on my laptop, when an email notification popped up.

I clicked into my in-box and my stomach dropped when I saw who it was from.

Mrs. Bowen, from the summer program.

I’d hoped to discuss this in person, but since we weren’t able to locate you, email will have to suffice.

“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath as I read my rejection in a cold, professional email message.

“Ms. Hornby?” My World Civ teacher, Mrs. Wunderlich, looked at me as if I’d just spoken in tongues. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Sorry.”

She went on to do the requisite ten-second teacher stare, a gaze that informed me I had done wrong and she hoped I was dying of mortification, before going back to her lecture.

Perfecting this day was looking more and more challenging.

When the bell rang, I gathered my things and very nearlysprinted through the halls in order to get to the west entrance earlier than on the other days. I bumped andexcuse-me’d through the congested hallways, and once I reached the double doors, I moved to stand behind the huge arrangement of indoor plants.

I wasn’t hiding—really. I was… lurking. Maybe. I knew Josh wouldn’t kiss Macy, but I was curious to see them arrive and get a sense of their vibe when they were together.

“What are you doing?”

I jumped at the sound of the voice, and when I turned around, it was Nick Stark, smirking at me like he knew exactly what I was up to. I glanced behind him before quietly saying, “Shhh. Go away.”

“Um.” He gestured to the mini jungle I was protected by. “Are you stalking someone from back here?”

“No, I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Can you—”

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